


you’re an earthly comfort (yet so divine, yet so divine)

by garbagemanmilo



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: Angel Chuck Taylor, Awkward Boners, Fainting, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Religious Imagery, Trans Male Character, Trans Man Chuck Taylor, chuck busted ass when he fell, trent baretta does not have my consent to view me as a human person with a physical presence, trent is a homosexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27537790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagemanmilo/pseuds/garbagemanmilo
Summary: Trent Barreta didn’t think anything could blindside him anymore. And then Chuck Taylor fell (literally) into his life.
Relationships: Trent Barreta/Chuck Taylor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. afraid of what they’ll say (so i push them away)

The whole building shook and Trent really did believe a meteor had rock bottomed itself right into the parking lot in front of the apartment complex. Standing on shaky legs, hand pressed just underneath his pec, trying to calm his heart, he stumbled towards the door and opened it as softly as possible. He could hear Jim starting to get up from his four-hour power nap, and yelled a quick, “I’m checkin’ it out!” 

There was no response, but Trent knew the guy was flashing a thumbs-up, even though they were both in separate rooms. He continued on, wobbling down each step until he was walking on concrete. He looked up, and all the air in his lungs left in one big  _ gush _ . 

In a massive crater that dented the tar-coated cement of the parking lot, curled up, was a man. 

A man with huge, white wings and a golden circlet hovering above dark hair, casting a holy light over his reddened, rash-covered body. 

Trent dropped to his knees, forgetting that one knee was still fucked-up; he couldn’t be bothered by the lightning of pain shooting up and down his thigh. “Hey, dude, you alright?” he called, cringed internally at how squeaky his voice was. But then the man- the  _ angel- _ opened his eyes, and Trent saw they were green, and the widened pupils shrunk down, adjusting to the sunlight. 

The angel began to sit up, exposing more scraped skin, and also exposing the fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Which sparked Trent’s internal battle on whether or not angels wore clothes, and then a little croaky gasp of, “dude,  _ shut up _ ,” cut them off. 

Trent opened his mouth- maybe to ask how something so beautiful could  _ exist _ , like,  _ actually _ exist- but the angel stood up, one arm wrapped around his side, cradling his left side, the one that absorbed the impact. And Trent got another interesting look at the guy’s anatomy. 

“No dick,” he blurted out, and then clapped both hands over his face, hunched his shoulder like he’d be able to disappear. A hot flush ran up the nape of his neck, drenching Trent in shame and embarrassment. Of  _ course _ you’d say that, Trent,  _ fuck _ . Peeking between his fingers, he noticed that the angel was slowly moving closer, wings shaking dust and bits of rock out, and  _ wow _ , if Trent thought they were bright before, he’d call them blinding now.

Once the man was only a few feet away, Trent felt his heart start pounding for a different reason. “You’re  _ big _ ,” he wheezed, dropped his hands down to his thighs, just kept staring up at the angel.  _ Divine _ , that was the word, as he stretched his wings out to their full span;  _ well _ over six feet, groomed and preened down sleek, not a feather out of place. 

Just as Trent was beginning to regain some higher brain function, the angel  _ spoke _ .

“My name’s Chuck. You’re Trent Beretta, right?”

* * *

When Trent came to, he was laying on his sofa, with that beautiful man standing over him-  _ Chuck _ , his name was  _ Chuck _ , he remembered that- wings folded back, just peeking over the guy’s broad shoulders. And he still wasn’t wearing any clothes.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he slurred, and immediately realized that he’d been drooling. Trent wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, rubbed the spit off on his jeans. “We  _ gotta _ get somethin’ on you,” he muttered, and tried to stand up. 

It felt like a bundle of fireworks had been set off inside his skull, right behind his eyes. He sat back down, torso twisting with agony, panting through gritted teeth. “Ohhhh, my _ god _ ,” and Trent pulled his knees up, curling up. Much like Chuck was. 

Two hands- large, warm, soft- laid over Trent’s head, and the fireworks sputtered, extinguished. Something pleasant, like a cool dishrag, settled on top of his overheated brain, and Trent moaned with relief. He hardly registered the weight on his lap- Chuck, sitting on him, grounding him- and maybe it’s because he hadn’t gotten laid since he hurt his knee, but the next thing he knows, Chuck is lifting himself up, off Trent’s crotch.

He opened his eyes, saw that Chuck’s face was flushed bright red, staring down at Trent’s lap. Where he was hard in his pants. “Sorry, I didn’t- it’s been a while,” he explained, but the angel just moved off, sat down on the couch next to Trent. 

There’s a good thirty or so seconds of quiet, just Trent and Chuck looking at and studying each other’s faces. It’s almost nice, watching, examining. And then Jim walked in, shades pushed to the top of his head, and he caught sight of Trent with a boner and a man with wings sitting on his sofa.

“What the  _ fuck?”  _ he screamed, louder than Trent’s ever heard Jim- louder than he’d ever heard  _ anyone- _ and Chuck’s wings stiffened, feathers fluffing out at all angles.  _ Like a cat _ was his brief thought before there was a  _ thud _ and Jim was laying, full-length, on the carpet of the living room. “Y’all keep fainting on me today, what’s going on? Is it ‘cause I’m ugly or somethin’?” Chuck asked, and Trent rushed to assure him, “ _ no _ , not at all, but let’s make sure Jim is good, and then we can put some clothes on you.”


	2. mesmerized (while i die)

“Help me get him on the couch,” Trent sighed, inclined his head towards the prone form of Jim, and Chuck’s face screwed up, like he was about to cry or something. “Get his legs,” he instructed, and he hooked both arms underneath Jim’s, pulled him up until his face was visible. That seemed to relax the angel.

There was still that stupid, anxious line between Chuck’s eyebrows, and Trent fucking hated it. “ _Dude_ , it’s alright. Just get his legs and lift. You’re a strong guy,” he added, as if the guy didn’t already know he was built like a brick shithouse. Chuck walked closer, looked wary, then took Jim’s ankles, and both men carried Trent’s roommate and plopped him, still facedown, on the couch.

“Your hair,” Chuck murmured, almost in awe, and Trent frowned, looked over at the angel. “What about- ah _fuck_ , did my headband slip?” he asked, a little pissed as he reached up to touch his forehead, but Chuck just gaped, eyes wide and absolutely gorgeous. “No, I just… it’s nice,” he finished lamely, cheeks pink, rosy. Trent had to admit, it was a good look on the angel; made him look smaller, more delicate- not that there was anything _wrong_ with how fucking broad he was. 

And then Chuck was the one frowning, that dumb little line furrowing his brows together again, which made Trent insecure. Patted his forehead, making sure his headband hadn’t slipped, wasn’t in the current process of slipping, before dropping his hand back down to his side. His head was starting to pound again- whatever angelic, holy magic Chuck had worked on him was wearing off- so he squatted down in front of the sofa, closed his eyes and took deep breaths. 

The pain didn’t subside; if anything, it _worsened_ , growing to this nauseating, piercing ache that threatened to break through. Like his brain was a duckling and his skull was the feeble shell, or some shit. “Chuck, I need-“ Trent motioned to his head, felt sweat drip down, one droplet sliding the length of his face. “Need you to do that magic shit again,” he gasped out, cracked open his eyes the tiniest bit, and was met with the angel, stooped down, concern darkening his lovely features. It took what little breath Trent had left away, and he groaned, lurched forward into Chuck’s outstretched hands. 

Instantaneous relief, like the heavens opened and rained down, right on Trent’s swollen brain, but the heavens were a single angel named Chuck Taylor, with his palms covering each eye, fingers slid underneath Trent’s headband, in his hair. Far too intimate- far too intimate for a guy who hadn’t fucked in six months, easy. Luckily, Chuck wasn’t making the same mistake twice, just stood over Trent and rubbed these wonderful, soothing circles on his forehead. 

Chancing it, Trent let his fingers wrap tentatively around Chuck’s wrists, keeping the grasp as gentle as possible. The muscles in the angel’s arms jumped, but he didn’t pull away, but his breathing seemed to grow heavier, slightly more labored. “Sorry, just- feels good. _Magic_ ,” Trent whispered, and flinched when a hot gust of breath hit his face. It smelled comforting; like the feeling of baking with his mother, like rainy nights spent inside, like _love_ , like _hope_ , and then soft lips pressed against Trent’s.

Trent kissed back without a second thought. 

* * *

A hand that wasn’t Chuck’s tangled in Trent’s hair, tugged his head away and back roughly. “Knock it off, man,” Jim complained, and Trent had never wanted to lift a hand to his roommate outside of the ring before then. Chuck, for his part, looked mortified- his wings were rigid and his face was all crumpled. “Fuckin’ _cocksucker_ ,” Trent spat back, swatted Jim’s hand away, turned fully to give his friend’s face a harder-than-necessary slap. Jim took it in stride, just grinning like the cat that got the cream, and blew a particularly wet raspberry at Trent. 

“You’re _gross_ , dude,” he huffed, and Jim rolled his eyes, patted Trent’s pecs and started to sit up. “That’s _rich_ , comin’ from you. Mr. _Making-Out-With-An-Angel_ ,” he sing-songed, stuck his tongue out again, and made this affronted little noise when Trent grabbed it between his middle and forefinger. “Dumb blonde,” he replied, pinched the muscle briefly before letting go. Trent looked over his shoulder at the angel, with his hunched shoulders and guilty eyes, felt his own tongue swell up, sticking to the roof of his mouth. Making forming words that much harder.

Chuck’s gaze was set firmly onto the floor, and Trent followed it, not expecting to encounter the wet patch staining the carpet. Jim’s whistle from behind gave Trent all the context he needed. “Dude, shut the _fuck_ up!” he hissed, but Chuck’s eyes were already filling up, spilling over with this dazzling gold. _Ichor_. The room was eerily quiet as the angel cried, trembling hands attempting to wipe away the glittering tears, but they kept rolling down Chuck’s face, flecking the green irises, clumping his dark lashes together.


End file.
